Late Night with Jet
by Dog Girl
Summary: Jet musing, some profanity. One shot, and first attempt at Bebop or Jet.


It's quiet, and dark, and mine. Three in the morning and everyone else is asleep but me. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm getting older, or if it's just that this is that little hidden pocket of time that's only mine that makes me so contemplative. Maybe it's different for other people. Maybe this is the only time it's quiet enough for me to think. In the day, there are always too many things clamoring for attention: Ed needs this, Ein wants that, Faye's broken this. Spike – yes, Spike.  
  
It always comes back to you in some way or another. I wish I could talk to you about it. I wish I had that luxury. You see, it's this lie about revenge, Spike. All the great stories have it. Young hero gets burned – family dies, sweetheart dies, hell, maybe his whole planet gets blown up or something. So he goes out into the world and learns how to kill. He gets good at it, and then he comes back and kills the people who hurt him the first time. Then he walks off into the sunset with the Princess, or whoever, and lives happily ever after. As if a few bullets will make everything alright again. As if they can somehow magically make it so you are the person you were before all hell broke loose.  
  
Bull shit. You can never, ever go back to being who you were before your sun fell out of the sky.  
  
Let me tell you how it really is. Let me tell you how it is when you wake up and your arm hurts like hell and you can't do anything about it because it's not there anymore. Let me tell you about betrayal. Let me tell you about the woman in your life simply walking out on you without so much as a "I think we need to talk" before hand. Let me tell you about growing up.  
  
You see, what the stories don't ever tell you is that after all the dust settles, and the bad guy is dead and you're walking off into the sunset, you still have the same problems you had before you killed the son of a bitch. There's what happened to you, and what happened to him, and they aren't the same anymore. You crossed paths when the bastard hurt you, but now you're going off in different directions. Sure, he might be dead, but where does that leave you?  
  
In the same damn spot, that's where. I'm telling you, revenge gets you nothing. Sure, punish the bad guy, whatever. Sure, if you do it right it might help you take back control of the situation. But if you screwed up in the first place and if you don't learn anything you're going to be right back in the same situation with a different son of a bitch in no time.  
  
That's the hard part, Spike. I think it can only really be seen clearly in that time pocket. You have to go back and figure out all the things you did wrong so you don't do them again. If someone took you, you have to figure out how so they don't do it again. If someone hurt you, you have to figure out how so you don't let it happen again. And that takes a lot of work, and a lot of time.  
  
I guess I can understand why this part never makes it into the stories – it's pretty dull. There aren't any big chase scenes, or kung-fu fights. There's no soundtrack. Just you, and your memories.  
  
Like I said, maybe it's that I'm older than you. Maybe it's the arm, or Alisa, or Fad. Maybe it's the fact that I've spent the past 9 years thinking about it. In the end, where am I? After all the anger and the hurt and the getting even – where am I? I still have a chunk of metal for a left arm. I still sleep alone. I've got scars.  
  
But you know something? I'm stronger. I know, it sounds corny – but it's the truth. I'm not the self-righteous boy anymore. I've never been a saint, but now I don't think I should be. I've grown up. I know more about my limits, and more about my friends. I know where to draw the line. My shoulders are wider, and it's at times like these that I realize that things aren't "good" or "bad" - they just are.  
  
I used to wonder if I would be who I am if I still had my left arm? Would I have known you and Faye and Ed if I had stayed with Alisa? Is my arm a fair trade for the man I am now? Is Alisa worth a Spike and a Faye and an Ed? Now I know those are the wrong questions. I am who I am. This arm is my arm. This ship is my ship. These people are my people. Overly simplistic? Perhaps.  
  
Like I said, at the end of the story there's still just you. You're the one who's got to learn to carry the weight. Once you do, though, a funny thing happens. It isn't heavy anymore. You grow into it, you move on.  
  
I think that's what I would tell you, if I could. Move on, Spike. All the bullets in the world won't turn back time. And you have us, now. Had you stayed where you were we would never have met, and that would have been a tragedy. You are a royal pain in the ass, but you're my pain in the ass. Grow up. You'll be able to shoulder that responsibility, and until you learn how we'll be there to help you do it. That's how it works. Even Bruce Lee had back up, Spike. Sure, it was off camera, but it was there. Don't try to do it alone.  
  
Unfortunately, I think you have to be up in that time pocket to see this. And you can never get there if someone else is up with you. Two people up in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep is another pocket entirely.  
  
Sounds like Ein just woke up. Looks like my time done, then. Don't believe the stories, Spike. Learn to move past it.  
  
Good night, Space Cowboy.  
  
NOTES: Disclaimer: You can't prove a thing; I have a solid alibi.  
  
Readers choice! Before or after episode 26? You decide! (The correct answer is "yes.") 


End file.
